I Love You And It's Getting Worse!
by Heart Torn Out
Summary: What if Supernatural, BBC Sherlock, X-Men First Class, and Torchwood met? What would happen if suddenly, all my OTPs were smashed into the same world by accident.Its all in the title. SLASH. Destiel, Cherik, Jack/Ianto Sherlock/John. Give it a whirl?


**Deaer world, I got bored and threw my four OTPs together. I am sorry for the madness that is me. **

**Current Song: Costume Party by Two Door Cinema**

**Current Thought: I. Need. Sleep. And a shower, possibly some food... hmmmm... interesting.**

* * *

><p><strong>I Love You (And It's Getting Worse!)<strong>

**I love you and it's getting worse.**  
><strong>~ Joseph Morris<strong>

An angel and telepath walk into a bar and sit beside a British genius and British alien-hunter. No, no, no. Let's try again. A hunter and a metal master walk into a brothel and come across a RAMC surgeon and immortal. Goodness no. That's worse. It sounds like the start of a bad joke. If only it was.

One thing that they didn't expect was to actually meet each other. It made no sense, no logical sense. According to several of them, it was nigh impossible, _nay_, without a doubt impossible. And yet, here it was, happening. They were meeting.

Odd, how such a trivial matter such as alternate universes can affect the lives of eight men.

"Um… so…" Dean Winchester isn't a man of many words. Anyone who knows him can vouch for him on that front. Except, there is only one being here that moment that is familiar with him and he is on the other side of the park, talking to several other men.

There's a guy in front of him that's quite terrifying. He has blonde hair and steel gray eyes and he keeps looking over to the other group across the park as well. They all are, Dean notices. Even the small, little, blonde British guy with the limp and the guy with the WWII long-coat.

"What are we doing here?" the terrifying blonde guy says with an odd accent.

The little blonde Brit scrunches up his face. "You're accent sounds familiar."

A cold look is directed to him. "German," he supplies.

"Ah," the man says and rubs at his leg.

Dean can't take it. He doesn't even know who they are. "So, um, hi. I'm Dean Winchester," he says, volunteering himself. "Look, I have no idea who you guys are or why we're here but can we at least get some introductions going? Or something?"

The scary, German blonde raises an eyebrow then sighs. "Erik Lensherr."

The little Brit simply says, "John Watson." Everyone turns to him at that. "What?" he asks.

"Like… John Watson from _The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes_?" Erik says carefully.

John makes a face. "Why do I have a feeling that I'm not going to like this?"

"It's a book series," Erik explains. When he gets no response, he says, "By Sir Arthur Conan Doyle?"

John shakes his head. "Not ringing any bells there. Sorry mate."

Erik seems to give up. But Dean's looking at him weird. "What?" he says sharply.

"You're Magneto," Dean says, a bit of awe in his voice. "From Marvel's _The Uncanny X-Men_."

Erik makes a face. "Raven made up that stupid name. And _The X-Men_? What sort of rubbish is that?"

The guy with the WWII coat suddenly butts in. "Jack Harkness." He smiles blithely. "Sorry, but I was feeling a bit left out." He looks to Erik now too. "Yeah, I actually get where Winchester is coming from." He gestures to Erik. "But you were in the concentration camps from the world you're from, right? I know the look."

Erik is on his guard and he says dangerously to the American, "And how would you know _the look_?"

Jack smiles now. "Captain Jack Harkness. I was there."

John brightens a bit. "Captain John Watson. A pleasure." They shake hands.

Dean rolls his eyes. "Great. Now they're gonna go off and talk about army-people things."

Beside him Erik chuckles. "I don't think we really have the time."

"You're right," John says shaking his head. "We honestly don't. Although…" He looks to Dean. "Did you say Dean Winchester? Like from the TV show _Supernatural_?"

Dean blinks. "There's a fucking _show_?"

John shrugs. "Well there is back where I come from."

"Yeah well," Dean says pointing to Jack. "_He's_ in a show back where _I_ come from. Torchwood. And it's stupid too."

"Hey!" Jack exclaims about to argue and then Erik snaps his fingers and everyone is floating by their belt buckles.

Dean doesn't look surprised, nor does Jack in the least. They've both seen worse. But John looks pale. "Now," Erik continues. "If I put you all down, will you stop arguing? So we can figure this out?" There are nods and he smiles and says, "Good." As he lets them down though, he mutters, "_Mein Gott_, they're worse than the children."

"_Children_?" Dean says as he lands and catches his breath. "You have _kids_?"

Erik colors. "Well, no. I can't _have_ children. But there are these mutants and…" He throws his hands into the air. "Never mind."

"Why can't you have children?" John inquires, a bit shaky and yeah, the limp is back and strong.

"It's not that I _can't_," Erik says looking uncomfortable. "It's just that I'm not…interested in that type of person…" He looks like he's going to his own funeral.

There's a moment of confusion from the three other men until John, who's been living with a sociopathic consulting detective for a few years, finally gets it. "Oh. You mean you're gay." Erik flinches but doesn't say a word.

Something like understanding dawns on Jack and he says smiling dazzlingly, "Great. So am I." Erik looks up in surprise.

"If it makes any difference, so am I," John says giving a tentative smile. John gets an odd look on his face as he says to Dean, "And let me guess: you're gay as well."

"Yahtzee," Dean says with absolutely no feeling at all. But then his eyes light up. "Hey guys."

"Mmm?" Erik says, seeing the pattern.

"I think I just figured it out."

With a lewd grin, Jack says, "Well geez, you don't say?"

* * *

><p>Castiel is not sure how to act around these men. First, perhaps because they are men. Human men and the only human men he's ever had to interact with were Dean, Sam and Bobby. Secondly because they were all quiet also.<p>

_This is odd, is it not?_ Castiel suddenly hears in his head. The voice is British and clipped and when he looks up, the man with soft blue eyes in a tweed suit is smiling.

Castiel thinks back,_ yes, but then again, so is this. How are you doing that?_

The man smiles and the other two look to each other in confusion. _I'm a telepath. Charles Xavier at your service._

Suddenly, the tallest man of the group, the one with the ridiculous scarf and the curly hair, jumps up and says, "They're speaking telepathically." Castiel is a bit surprised he surmised this. So is Mr. Xavier by the look on his face. The man points to Charles. "You're the telepath." Charles blinks. The man now points to Castiel. "And you're…" His eyes go wide. "Well that's sodding odd. I think for the first time, I may be wrong." He cleared his throat. "Are you…an angel? Or something quite like it? You exude this sense of peace but there's a deadly force, and if you've read Revelations, which I assume most of us have, then it states-"

"Yes, I am an angel of the Lord," Castiel says, if only to shut the man up. God, but he could talk a mile a minute!

"Fascinating!" Charles exclaims getting closer. "That is absolutely amazing. How do you think we got here then? It's obvious that we are all from different worlds. I myself am from a world such as this but… well, when I left it was 1962 and a very different place."

Castiel makes a face. "It is 2009 where I am from and the Apocalypse."

"Mmm, it's 2011 where I am from and I'm going after a man by the name of Jim Moriarty," the tall man in the scarf says. Charles and the silent man that hadn't been talking at all looked to him.

"Moriarty?" Charles says just as the other man says, "As in James Moriarty from the Conan Doyle books?"

The man in the scarf makes a face. "Alright. I have a feeling introductions are due. I am Sherlock Holmes."

Charles laughed. "Oh goodness, no! This isn't happening! But it is; I can see from your mind that you are perfectly honest. Oh my. Professor Charles Xavier, then."

"Castiel, Angel of Thursday, Angel of the Lord," Castiel says. At the blank looks he is given, he sighs and says instead. "You may call me 'Cas' if you prefer."

"_Cas_ it is then," Sherlock says. He looks to the silent man in the blue suit and says, "_Well_?"

He blinks then says crisply, "Ianto Jones."

"So, why are we all here?" Charles asks. "It's very odd to say the least. Is there something that we all have in common?"

Sherlock makes a quick study of everyone and ignores Charles' whispered praises of "Fascinating!" and "Blimey, that's brilliant!" or even, "What a _groovy_ talent!" Especially the last one. He makes a face as he refocuses his attention on the whole and says, "I think it's because we're all _gay_."

Charles makes a face. "That's odd. What has the lot of us being homosexual got to do with it?"

Ianto look entirely unimpressed. "Really? Because we're _gay_? I feel slighted. This can't be how Sherlock Holmes really is." Sherlock doesn't even deem him with a reply.

"I'm sure of it," he says to Castiel. "I don't know why but…" He looks over across the way and sees John speaking to the other men. He gets an idea. "Tell me now, all of you. Do you know someone over there?" He points to where John is.

There are slow nods. "Yes," Charles says. "Erik Lensherr. A fellow mutant and…_partner_."

"Congrats," Sherlock says absentmindedly, ignoring Charles' "Thank you, my friend!" in response. "Anyone else?"

"That's Jack," Ianto says pointing to a tall man, with a cleft chin wearing a WWII overcoat. "My boyfriend."

"Wonderful!" Charles exclaims. They all ignore him.

"And you?" Sherlock asks Castiel, though he's sure who the angel knows, since it's only John and a man in a leather coat left.

"Dean Winchester," Castiel says. "The Righteous Man I gripped tight and raised from perdition."

Everyone stops at that and turns to Castiel with wide eyes. Sherlock blinks and looks to Charles. Ianto does the same. Charles blinks. "Honestly lads, he's being deadly serious. I swear to you," the Professor says, a bit awed.

"You raised him from…" Sherlock feels like his mind has been blown for the first time in his life. "Alright then, never mind. Moving on. The small man…" And now he squints and rolls his eyes. "The small man _with the limp, the wanker,_ is John Watson. My partner." By the tone of Sherlock's voice, it meant John was his partner in 'crime' and his partner in life.

Charles burst out laughing. "Oh come now Mr. Jones, out of us all, _you_ must at least understand my reaction to this news. That Sherlock Holmes is _romantically involved_ with John Watson."

Ianto grins a bit. "I must admit. I find some humor in that."

Sherlock makes a face as Castiel stares on in confusion because he has no idea what they're talking about. "What? There's nothing wrong with me being with John."

Charles shakes his head as Ianto says simply, "You'd understand if you'd read the books."

"What blasted _books_? I will bloody burn them _all_," Sherlock says, a bit frustrated. He schools his features then and looks over to the group. "I wonder if they've solved this yet…."

* * *

><p>"He's got no sense of personal space," Dean says, groaning.<p>

"I know right?" John says rubbing his eyes. "So, we're out on a case and I look up and _he's right bloody there_. It's unnerving."

Dean made a face. "Dude, imagine if he could just poof around and suddenly, when you were alone, he's with you. Out in public." Dean shakes his head. "I love the nerdy guy with wings, but, damn…"

Erik gives a chuckle. "Try having him constantly in your head, sending you dirty images and not being able to do anything about it. Or being afraid you'll project some inner thought."

Jack rolls his eyes. "How about getting talked down to because 'even though you're immortal _Jack_, it doesn't mean you still can't get hurt'," Jack mimics.

They all sigh wistfully looking at the far off group of men converse. There's something wistful in their eyes, something tender and warm, something tired and something longing.

"You know, it's disgusting that the only person I can find that can deal with me and want me for me, is a whole other species," Dean says a bit bitterly. "Like, how fucked up is that?"

Erik hums. "I understand completely. Hell, my goal in life is to brutally murder the man who killed my mother and made me into a monster. Charles is so… so _good_. And I'm not." They all give Erik a dubious look. "No, really. When we're done with this whole Shaw/Cuba business, do you know that he wants to open up a school for mutants and take them all in? All based in his mansion?" Dean keeps his mouth shut, because he's read the comics and watched the movies but everyone else's eyebrows shoot up.

"Really?" John says. "That's admirable. But," he concedes. "Can't be worse than the only person _I_ can manage to fall for is the only consulting detective in the world, and a 'high functioning sociopath' that gets his jollies off solving murder cases, playing with severed heads, murdering his violin and screwing around with his brother who _IS_ the British government. Not to mention," he adds, "going after a highly dangerous consulting criminal who likes to wrap people in bombs and watch them explode _because he can_."

Jack makes a face. "Well, I go after alien life-forms for a living and fell for a human I'll outlive, no matter what I do."

They all sober up a bit at that. "Well that just sucks," Dean says, honestly.

Jack shrugs. "Comes with the job description I guess."

* * *

><p>"And he insists that I at least try to be sensitive to people's…emotions," Sherlock makes a disgusted face. "And at least be up to date with some popular culture."<p>

Castiel nods. "I understand completely."

Charles makes a face, as does Ianto. "And what's wrong with that?" Ianto asks.

"Yes, I see nothing the matter with either of those things," Charles says, backing the alien-hunter up.

Sherlock blinks at the two of them then looks to Castiel, who has an understanding look on his face. "Please tell me they're joking, although I know they're not."

"They are joking," Castiel deadpans, and Sherlock cracks a smile.

"You're humor, my friend, is something I will direly miss once we figure out what the bloody hell happened to get us here and go home," Sherlock states. Castiel gives a nod. He feels the same, honestly.

Charles shrugs. "Yes well, at least you're man isn't always brooding in a corner, intent on destroying everything." Charles sighs. "I sometimes wonder if I'll ever be enough."

Ianto nods. "I'm with you there. Loving an immortal is…" He sighs a bit and wrinkles suddenly explode on his face. "It's trying at the best of times."

It's silent until Sherlock says, "He screams at night, sometimes." They look to him. "John, I mean, obviously. About the war."

Charles nods slowly. "So does Erik."

"So does Jack," Ianto says.

"So does Dean," Castiel intones. "Although he was in Hell…" No one deems that with a response. They don't actually know what to say to that.

"It's odd isn't it?" Sherlock says softly. "That I don't mind. That I wake him up and hold him and then act as if nothing happened in the morning."

Charles says, just as quietly, "I sooth Erik with my mind. His is usually in shambles when he has nightmares about what Shaw did to him."

Ianto smiles a bit and shakes his head. "I'm with Sherlock's technique on this one. There isn't anything more I can do but show him that I'll be there."

Castiel stuffs his hands into the pockets of his trench coat, an entirely too-human gesture that only the Winchesters and Bobby would classify as such. "I whisk Dean's nightmares away when he has them, guard his mind," he says with his gravelly voice.

"The things you do for love," Charles says thoughtfully.

"Mmm," Sherlock muses. He claps his hands then. "I just thought of something."

"What?" Ianto asks.

"Why don't we just… cross over the park and meet with them?"

There's a long silence followed by Charles accidentally projecting his abstract confusion on why they hadn't thought of this before. "I think something, or even _someone_, may have wanted us to… talk out our feelings with others before letting us back to them," Charles says aloud.

"Curiouser and curiouser," Sherlock mumbles and then starts on over, the rest of the lot following him.

* * *

><p>"They're coming over," Dean states, watching the man in the scarf leading the small group of four. "That Sherlock?" he then asks John.<p>

John moves Jack over, the immortal rolling his eyes and mumbling about short British-men, and smiles a bit. "That's the twit."

Erik huffs a laugh. "How affectionate." John gives a shrug.

"You ready for this?" Jack asks, as the other men get nearer and nearer.

Oddly enough, none of them are nervous. And why should they be? These are the men they had entrusted their hearts to. There was no hiding now. There never was.

* * *

><p>"John," was all Sherlock managed out before he was being attacked in a hug from the smaller man. Grinning in satisfaction, Sherlock encircled his arms around him. "You're limping again," he murmured into John's dishwater-colored hair.<p>

John's dignified response was a grunt into Sherlock's neck.

Charles had Erik wrapped in an embrace as well. "Hello, _mein liebeling_," Erik muttered into Charles' chocolate hair. The young professor only gave a small, tinkling laugh and murmured, "Hello, love."

Jack eyed Ianto for a moment before shrugging and drawing him close to his chest, his arms a protective barrier around the other man. They hadn't done this much, but still, it felt nice to for a change.

And Dean? Well, Dean wrapped his arms tight around Cas in the first hug they had ever shared. Castiel was awkward at first until he decided to melt into the hunter's arms and _just go with the damn flow_. And why not? He wasn't back in their world where he had to watch himself so very carefully, lest they be caught by some unknown force that wanted to harm them.

The reunions are whole-hearted and quietly done. When the respective couples part, they look to one another. "So," Dean says a bit unsure, arm around Castiel's waist. "Now what?"

Instead of one of their new acquaintances answering, the angel in his arms does. "I do not know for certain Dean. But what I do know is this: I would very much like to kiss you now." That is all the preamble the human gets before his angel is attacking his mouth.

And just like that, they're gone.

The others look on in shock and a bit of amazement. "Now, how the hell…?" John asks.

But before he can say more, Jack is forcing his tongue down Ianto's throat and they are gone as well. Charles and Erik follow in a hungry frenzy of lips, teeth and tongue and then, it's just John and Sherlock , alone in an empty park.

"We could explore you know," John says, knowing that that must have crossed Sherlock's mind at some point. "We don't really even know where or when we are."

Sherlock looks thoughtful for a moment before surprising John by shaking his head. "No; I'd much rather be going home now. Mrs. Hudson is probably losing her head over worrying for us."

John admits that he has a point and then smiles as Sherlock shyly ducks his head and tenderly kisses John's lips. Sherlock's the best kisser that John has ever known and his kisses must be the work of God, they're so wonderful.

It's the last thought he has before he's being whisked away with a chuckle.

* * *

><p>In one world, Dean Winchester and Castiel are back to fighting the Apocalypse. In less than two years time, Castiel will have become the new God and have been destroyed by the oncoming Leviathans, leaving Dean hurt and alone.<p>

In another world, Jack Harkness and Ianto Jones are back at Gwen's side, saving the world they love and know. In less than two months time, Ianto will die in Jack's arms, leaving him desolate and alone sooner than the latter had anticipated.

Still, in another world, Erik Lensherr and Charles Xavier enter the Westchester Mansion with sighs as they see the damage done by the teen mutants while they were gone. In a few weeks time, they will be on a beach in Cuba, the Professor paralyzed by a stray bullet and Magneto leaving without a backward glance with several mutants to start his war of terror on the world. They will both be left lonely and never love again.

And, in a world found only in the books of a British hack, Sherlock Holmes and John Watson return to 221B Baker Street and reassure Mrs. Hudson that they are well and fine, then go off to the Yard to assist Lestrade with Moriarty's recent attacks. In only a few hours, Sherlock will shoot the bomb on the ground of the pool-house and the entire place will explode…with John and Sherlock, but most importantly _Moriarty_, still inside. No one knows how their story will end.

But it's not two years, or two months, or two weeks or even two hours. It's _now_.

And that's all that matters.

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><p><strong>I don't even fucking know guys, so don't ask.<strong>

**Review though?**


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